


Light Carries Us

by PurelyWriting



Category: SEVENTEEN (Band), The Martian (2015), The Martian - All Media Types, 방탄소년단 | Bangtan Boys | BTS
Genre: Accurate Space Stuff, Alternate Universe - Space, Angst, Astronauts, Autistic Min Yoongi | Suga, Depression, Flashbacks, Fluff, Grief/Mourning, Illnesses, M/M, Major Character Injury, Not Really Character Death, Outer Space, Polyamory, Smut, Wakes & Funerals, the martian - Freeform, whats the word for being scared that youre gonna be forgotten by the people you love the most
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-09-12
Updated: 2019-10-08
Packaged: 2020-10-17 02:40:49
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 11,893
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20613599
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PurelyWriting/pseuds/PurelyWriting
Summary: Three of South Korea's best astronauts are stuck 50 million miles away from home. Assumed dead by the planet they called home, their hope, resources, and resolve is draining fast.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [TheMetaBard](https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheMetaBard/gifts), [](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts).

> I'm reposting this from my other Ao3 acc because I forgot the login for that one and it's easier just to move it over here uwu.
> 
> Also!!! This fic is a gift to two writers that I admire a lot!!! I hope you two like it, and I hope you see it as a present from me to you!! <3 <3 Good luck on your own writing!!

Beep. 

Beep.

Beep.

Beep.

_ ‘Oxygen dangerously low. Please seal suit immediately.’ _

Beep. 

Beep.

Beep.

Beep.

_ ‘Oxygen dangerously low. Please seal suit-’ _

Click. 

Freezing cold pure oxygen rushed up in Jimin’s face as he gasped awake. A stinging pain was in his abdomen, and as he blinked furiously and rubbed the fishbowl-esque helmet he wore to wipe away the dust, he saw the sky of the Martian Atmosphere above him. 

Holy fuck. He was still alive. 

He moved his arm, finding it buried underneath the thin red sand, which ultimately tumbled onto his helmet, making him have to wipe it again. His head was starting to feel a little foggy, probably from the pure oxygen that he was inhaling. Or maybe it was from the pain. 

He thrashed around for a few more minutes before he was able to sit up and immediately screamed in pain when the pole that was sticking out of him got tugged from the wire it was attached to which lead to the Hab’s satellite that was in multiple jagged pieces. 

Well, at least those weren’t in his stomach. He breathed hard, struggling to find his switchblade that was fitted into the suit, fumbling and nearly dropping it before he cut the wire and freed himself. 

Breathing hard, he pushed himself off of the ground. His legs shook from the pain that rattled through him, nearly causing him to blackout. When he could stand on his own, he looked out at the desolate wasteland that surrounded him. 

The hab was still standing, thank god. But the twenty-five solar panels that were clumped together were knocked over, and one of the rovers was nowhere to be seen. He turned in a full circle but still didn’t see it. When he tapped on the reading screen on his arm, displaying a radar of 100 km of the surrounding area, he found it huddled behind a large mountain. 

He turned again and saw the mountain. A huge jagged thing, and when he squinted, he could see it parked with the solar panels laid out and shattered. How the hell did it get over there? 

He started to walk towards it, but his hand flew up to his wound. He needed to get this patched up first. He stumbled down the hill he was stuck on, his legs starting to shake again when his suit shifted from him moving and moved the rod. 

He took a deep breath, steadying himself as he walked down the hill and soon reached the Hab. With shaking hands, he unlocked the airlock and stepped inside. There was a loud beeping sound as the pressure dropped, and a hissing sound when it stabilized. 

With a huff, he burst into the hab and ripped the helmet off of his head before throwing it onto the ground. The sharp actions of this caused the pain in his abdomen to increase. He pulled off his suit as fast as he could, unfastening the top parts of it and tossing it away from him, before taking a pair of scissors from nearby and cutting into his shirt. 

It was soaked from sweat, and there was a large spot on the abdomen that was turning the blue shirt a sickening colour of violet. He cut it further, exhaling again when he saw the bloody hole. 

“Fuck,” he swore quietly, grabbing Hoseok’s medical supplies and dumping them on the research table they had set in the middle of the Hab. He pushed aside Namjoon’s geological samples and sat down heavily in the comfy gamer seat that Jungkook had given the commander as a gift. 

He leant back, groaning in pain when his wound started to leak fresh blood and grabbed the kidney dish that had the medical tools. He groaned, grabbing a shot of adrenaline from the dish and uncapping it before stabbing it into his abdomen. 

A rush of adrenaline rushed through him, maybe more than he should have taken, and made his hands shake. He grabbed a pair of tongs, and holding them tightly he pressed the tongs into the wound. 

Giving a shuddering breath as his eyes rolled back from the stabbing pain, but he continued on and forced the wound open. With a pair of tweezers, he reached inside of the wound, grasping the small piece that was still lodged inside of him and with a pained grunt, pulled it out. 

He looked at the tiny piece of metal that had been inside of him and gave a pained huff. He laid back, breathing hard and letting the piece of metal drop into the dish along with the tools. He gave himself a few seconds to rest before he picked up the medical stapler and sealed the wound. 

Resting back again, he felt the adrenaline rush out of him, leaving behind a horrible ache. He grabbed a shot of painkiller and injected it around the wound five times and let the pain fade slowly. 

He continued to breathe hard, closing his eyes as he thought. Here he was, all alone on Mars with no communication with the Earth, and not enough food to survive until the next mission could come to rescue him. 

50 million km from home. And he was all alone-

Beep.

His suit! He looked over to where the screen on it blinked red with a distress signal and scrambled to his feet, wincing at the pain still in his abdomen but grabbed the suit none the less. 

‘Distress signal from suit KTH’

KTH. 

Kim Taehyung. 

Kim _MOTHERFUCKING_ Taehyung. 

Holy shit he was alive. He grabbed the suit and yanked the radar off of it, tapping it with blood-soaked fingers and swearing loudly when it slipped out of his fingers and he dropped it. He grabbed it more securely, clenching his jaw tightly as he continued to swear quietly and got out of the chair. 

His wound stung again and he ignored it but wrapped it tightly with some gauze so it at least wouldn’t do anything funky with his injury and grabbed one of their spare suits, scrambling to put it on. 

His stupid fucking radar, with its stupid fucking low-grade machinery, lit up a few more times with another distress beacon and he sent a similar signal back to let Taehyung know that he had seen the signal. 

He clipped the suit in place, grimacing when oxygen flooded his helmet. He breathed in deeply, ignored the pain that bloomed in his abdomen and pressed on. Unlocking the airlock. His suit swelled to help stabilize the pressure that increased as he pressed on, exiting the hab and going out into the hell-scape that was Mars. 

He looked at the radar on his suit, tapping it. The rover popped up, blinking brightly with the distress beacon from Taehyung. 

The second rover was totalled, it had rolled over in the massive storm that had passed and was torn in half with no chance of salvage. The second rover was nearly 30 KM away from him, and even if he started now, there was no telling if he’d be able to get to the rover before the next sol, and when he looked up at the sky, Phobos was already starting to pass over. 

He took a deep inhale in, smelling Namjoon’s cologne. This was his suit. His Commanders suit! It had a communications hub that could be connected to the other suits. 

He frantically started to tap at it, fumbling with the small thing on the side of his head. There was a burst of static in his ears. 

“Hello? Kim, do you copy?” He asked. For a second, there was just static. He swallowed thickly, taking a deep breath. 

“Kim, do you copy?” He repeated, his voice a little louder as he started walking. There was more static until a high pitched laugh came through. 

“_Jiminie_!” Taehyung’s relieved voice broke through, crackling incredibly from the distance, “you’re alive? The crew saw you get hit by the satellite!” 

“I got stabbed,” he said, laughing a little as tears beaded in his eyes, “it hurt like a motherfucker, but I’m doing okay.”

Taehyung breathed hard, sounding like he was about to sob, “Yoongi-hyung is here too. He got hurt. Head trauma. I put him in the recovery position, but we don’t have food, the solar panels are shot, so we can’t move. We’re running on reserve power and we have-” he trailed off, a quiet beeping sound breaking through the chat line, “75% power reserve left and dropping steadily.”

“Copy,” Jimin replied, “I’m coming to get you. The Hab is stable, but the other Rover is totalled. What is the condition of your suits?”

“Yoongi’s helmet has a crack,” Taehyung said, “we have duct tape, but I’m not sure it would be a perfect fit.”

“It won’t,” Jimin replied, “Is he awake?”

“Fading in and out of consciousness,” Taehyung said, “he’s said that he’s feeling sick to his stomach. I don’t know if we should exit the Rover.”

“Copy,” Jimin replied, “can you drive?”

“Negative,” he said, “one of the wheels are shot. I’m not going anywhere.” 

“Have you attempted?” Jimin asked. 

Taehyung paused for a moment, “negative,” he said, “I’m scared that rocks will get into the wheels. I don’t want to shake Yoongi-”

“Try the wheels,” Jimin ordered, stepping over some scattered equipment, “I’m 30 kilometres away. Drive 20 and I’ll walk the 10 to get to you.”

Taehyung didn’t reply for a few moments before he replied, “I’m not moving, Jiminie.”

“What?” Jimin stopped. 

“I’m not moving!” Taehyung replied, “Yoongi’s condition could worsen if we go over a bump!"

“You don’t know that!”

“I know enough!” Taehyung huffed, whispering softly to Yoongi when the specialist groaned loud enough for Jimin to hear. 

“Hoseok-hyung instructed me on how to help Yoongi through meltdowns and shutdowns while we were on the Taeyang. If he’s given himself a concussion, I don’t want to worsen it by making his head bump around like a goddamn maraca!” 

Yoongi groaned again and Taehyung lowered his voice, “I’m not moving the Rover. Commander Namjoon isn’t here, and Yoongi isn’t in a physical or mental condition to be giving orders in the right mind.”

“Then follow my commands,” Jimin said, continuing to walk, he could see the hind part of the Rover, the sun glimmered on the metal and shined in his eyes. 

“You are not the Commander,” Taehyung hissed. 

“I am the next in line. Now drive the Rover the 20 kilometres.”

There was silence from over the line for a moment before the Rover’s engine hummed to life. He watched as the Rover moved very slowly backwards, going over slowly over rocks and dirt until it reached clear land and started to speed up. 

Jimin picked up his pace as he walked quickly. Soon, he was starting to pant heavily from exertion but didn’t stop. He was so close to them. So close to the only other two people on the planet. 

He breathed deeply, still smelling Namjoon. God, he used way too much of that cologne. It was comforting in a way, and he held onto that comfort as he approached the Rover when it stopped. 

He could see Taehyung through the glass and waved to him. Taehyung waved back and pulled up to him. Inside, Jimin could see Yoongi lying flat down, his helmet was cracked and there was hot pink duct tape wrapped around where it was cracked messily. 

“Is the helmet sealed?” Jimin asked through the communication, exhaling softly when Taehyung nodded from inside and opened the door to the Rover. Jimin climbed in, wincing when he felt his wound open up again and blood start to trickle down his side. He ignored it, though, and shuffled into the rover. 

There were only two seats in the Rover, with some backspace that Yoongi was lying in with his feet poking out. Jimin got in, sitting in the other seat and cradling Yoongi’s feet on his lap. 

Taehyung closed the door, and they sat in silence for a few moments. There was a tense feeling in his chest as he looked at Taehyung. He took a moment to look at him before bursting into tears. He tore off his helmet and threw himself over Taehyung and hugged him around the middle. 

Taehyung unclipped his helmet and rested it on Yoongi’s legs. He hugged Jimin back, starting to sob as well as he hugged him and pressed kisses to Jimin’s head. They were sloppy and a little bit snotty from Taehyung’s crying, but Jimin couldn’t find it in him to care.

“I’m sorry,” Jimin cried, “I-I couldn’t get you to either of you int-time!” He cried harder, even as Taehyung shushed him, promising softly that it wasn’t his fault. 

“No one could have expected that this would happen. We...We need to get back to the Hab and try to figure this out.”

Jimin sniffled messily, “when did you get so smart?” He asked quietly, making Taehyung laugh. He was so beautiful when he laughed. God, he was so happy that he could still see him laugh. 

“When we landed,” he said, gently nudging Jimin to sit up, “come on, let’s get back to the Hab. We need to get Yoongi in bed before his condition gets worse.”

“Yeah, we should alos get back before we all die,” Yoongi croaked up from where he was laying. 

Ha. 

Not really that funny. 

* * *

Namjoon quietly looked out the window of the Taeyang. They were slowly passing stars, and he watched them in silence while in his hand he held Yoongi’s private notebook that held all of the constellations that Yoongi had discovered while being out there. The book was nearly full, with only two pages left. Namjoon had been looking through it, and made a few new constellations, naming them Yoongi, Jimin, and Taehyung in the trio’s memory. 

He blinked a few times when tears clouded his vision and willed them back. There was no more time for him to cry, god knows that he had cried enough today. There was no use for tears at this time, tears wouldn’t bring them back. 

“Commander?” Hoseok’s hesitant voice picked up from behind him. He looked back, seeing the surgeon floating there. His face was gaunt, much more since they had left Mars. His eyes were swollen, and he looked like he hadn’t been resting much. 

“Hey, Hobi,” Namjoon said softly, “what do you need?” He asked quietly. Hoseok smiled hesitantly, “Joshua and Vernon are requesting a meeting. Do you feel up to it?” He drifted over, touching Namjoon’s arm. 

Hoseok was always like Namjoon’s sun, and Namjoon was his rock. He could see that Hoseok’s eyes were red, as was the tip of his nose. His hair was a little greasy, simply from being too depressed to even shower. He was still beautiful to Namjoon, his happy Hobi. 

“I always do,” Namjoon said softly, squeezing Hoseok’s hand for a moment before he let go and drifted past him, the notebook still clutched in his hand. They floated slowly through the ship, passing a few holes that led to other parts of the ship until they reached the main space. Sliding down the ladder, Namjoon landed firmly on the ground.

Joshua was standing before a large computer, typing quickly on a large monitor as he looked up at a message being relayed. It was all in code so Namjoon didn’t look at it for too long. Code was always Jimin’s thing, it felt weird to look at a computer without him near it typing away. 

Vernon was quietly munching on some freeze-dried ice cream and smiled awkwardly when Namjoon approached. Even that food...Taehyung liked that food, and sometimes he would mix it with water for Yoongi because Yoongi hated how grainy it was. 

“A meeting was requested?” Namjoon asked, sitting down on one of the spinny chairs. He recalled spinning with Yoongi in his lap, the elder laughing his head off while trilling so loud Namjoon’s ears rang. Good memories like those were what kept him going. 

He pushed himself out of the memory and crossed his arms as Vernon leant forward, touching his forehead to Joshua’s arm to break him from the concentration he was entrapped in. 

“Hey, Commander,” Joshua said, his face pinched, “I’m almost done with Jimin’s report,” his voice choked at his name, and he cleared his throat. 

“Thank you for that,” Namjoon said shortly, “has mission control given us a message?” He asked, nodding to the screen where a box was blinking slowly. 

Joshua nodded back, clicking it. The screen flickered for a moment before Seokjin, the creator of the mission, came into view. His face looked tired and his eyes were weary. 

“Hey, boys,” he said softly, “how’s the flight?”

“It’s fine, sir,” Namjoon said, his face grim. Seokjin seemed to wince at the title, and Namjoon ignored him. Even though they were dating, he had to keep an aura of professionalism while in space. 

“That’s good,” Seokjin said softly, looking away from the camera, “we’ve started a memorial down in Busan for the three of them. I-I’ve talked to the director, and he agrees that we should let you attend the funeral service if you need to.”

Namjoon nodded, clutching the book tighter in his hand and feeling the imprints that Yoongi had left behind. If he was here, Yoongi would be leaning on his shoulder and smiling at him. 

“You have 374 more days before you reach Earth,” Seokjin said quietly, “I’ll keep all of you posted. I’ll need a call to be distributed to Commander Namjoon, Jimin-” He froze, his face going still as a choked sound came up from his throat. Silence took over both the ship and the screen as if Seokjin’s screen had frozen. 

He looked away, covering his mouth with his hand as he let out a quiet sobbing sound. They were stuck in silence for a few moments before Seokjin slapped his hand over the ‘end call’ button and the screen went dark. 

Silence filled the ship as the screen fuzzed out. Joshua clicked a few buttons and ended the call from their side. Namjoon took a deep breath, resting his hand on his heart to feel his heartbeat as it thundered in his chest. 

He couldn’t do this. He was going insane. Without Yoongi, Taehyung and Jimin, his whole world was falling apart. 

“I will be in my quarters if you need me,” he said shortly, standing from his seat, “do not disturb me unless we are in critical mode.”

He didn’t wait for any of them to respond to him walked to the ladder where the zero gravity hauled him upwards. He floated up, soon reaching the top where he moved through the station and floated up to the rooms. 

First, he went into Yoongi’s room. All of his personal belongings were still there. His books, his stim toys, his electronics and his papers that he drew constellations on as well as a cog board that held the majority of his drawings. 

Yoongi always kept the zero-gravity on when he was in his room, he said it was because he loved the weightless feeling of floating in place peacefully. It was the perfect situation for when he had meltdowns or shutdowns, and he could often be found floating around peacefully while listening to classical music peacefully. He had favoured Clair de Lune the most, sometimes late at night, Namjoon would join him in his floating. They fell asleep like that often, waking up on the bed when the g-force had become too much for Yoongi. 

Now, his room was empty. Barren of life and of everything that made Yoongi. He sat down on his bed, fastening the straps that Yoongi had there for pressure or when he wanted to be held down and sat still, letting himself be surrounded by the smell of him. 

He smelled like home. Like their shared home in Ilsan where he burned Myrrh incense and jasmine scented candles when he was stressed. His office, where he continued to document and research stars as much as he could. And their bedroom, where they had been each other's firsts. First kisses, first “I Love You”, first intimate night. 

Namjoon let a few tears slip past his eyes and clutched his notebook to his chest. Desperately, he wished that he was home on Earth with Yoongi, Jimin, and Taehyung in his arms. He wanted Seokjin to smile, he wanted Hoseok to tell a weird joke and make all of them laugh. He wanted to be with them, dancing with Jimin and Hoseok, kissing Yoongi on his cheeks four times in the morning, sleeping with Seokjin at night when his crooked fingers drew patterns sleepily into his skin and kicked him when he was sleeping. 

He wished that he could go back. That he could hear Jimin’s high singing voice and Taehyung’s deep baritone paired with him and Yoongi’s sharp chirring noises that he made when he was excited. And Hoseok pressed behind him, kissing the nape of his neck and whining when Namjoon tried to get up. 

With those thoughts in his head, he laid there. He could almost smell the porridge that Jimin was making, and he could almost feel Seokjin’s breathy laugh on his neck as he stirred or feel Yoongi laying on him and kissing his forehead to soothe his tears. 

* * *

“Jeon? Where’s my coffee?!” 

Jungkook squeaked as he rushed around, a pot of coffee in his hand as he ran up to his supervisor, “sorry!” He said, “the machine broke and I-”

“I don’t wanna hear your fucking excuses,” his supervisor spat, taking the pot from him and pouring himself some coffee. 

“Check on the Mars mission again,” he said, “the Taeyang mission crew should still be on the surface.”

“Y-you want me to look for their bodies?” He asked, his stomach twisting at the thought. His supervisor glowered at him, and he quickly bowed before rushing off to the command centre. There, Seokmin gave him a wavering smile when he arrived. 

“Did hyung-nim snap at you again?” He asked quietly, looking at a few of the craters on Mars. Jungkook glanced at the screen and frowned when he saw that he was looking at the Hab from Sol 18 to Sol 42.

“Hey, wait,” Jungkook said, leaning down from looking at the screen, “go back to Sol 18,” he ordered.

“What? Why?” Seokmin asked, looking really confused. 

“Just do it,” Jungkook said, “I think I saw something,” he said impatiently. Seokmin toggled the screen back to Sol 18 and Jungkook leant in, squinting at the screen. 

Sol 18 was before the storm, so both Rovers were parked by the Hab, the solar panels were left out and were clean. Jungkook toggled the screen, going to Sol 30. The solar panels were dirty, the MAV was gone, one of the Rovers was crushed and torn apart, but the other was poking out of a mountain, untouched, 

“How did the Rover get there?” He asked Seokmin, his voice soft. A bad feeling was starting to pool in his chest. Seokmin shook his head, “I-I have some pictures from a few hours earlier,” he said. 

“Show me,” Jungkook said sharply. Seokmin did as he was told. The Rover was 30 kilometres away from the Hab, it was driving. Someone was there! Someone was on Mars!

“_Alive_,” Jungkook croaked, sitting back in his seat.

“What?” Seokmin asked, looking from Jungkook to the screen, his face going white as paper when Jungkook flipped between the screens. He leant over to the wastebasket that was by his desk and retched. 

Jungkook ignored him, scrambling for the phone on his desk, shakily stabbing his fingers on the number for security. 

“You’ve reached the main security station, how may I take your number?” A security guard asked. Jungkook took a deep breath. 

“I need the emergency number for Kim Seokjin,” he said, “it’s an emergency!”

Ten minutes later, a red-eyed Seokjin was standing behind him. His lips were pursed and his face was gaunt from not eating. Beside him, the head of his department’s head, Choi Seungcheol, glared down at Jungkook.

“What have you called us over for?” Seokjin asked, exhaling deeply as he rubbed at the bridge of his nose. 

Jungkook swallowed thickly, keeping down the bile that threatened to rise up. 

“I believe that the astronauts left on Mars are still alive!” He blurted. 

An eerie silence followed his words. Seokmin, now with his husbands Soonyoung and Seungkwan tending to him looked at him with bulging eyes, like he himself couldn’t believe it even though he had seen the pictures. 

_ “What?”  _ Seokjin asked. His voice was soft, way too soft, and sounded furious. Jungkook’s hands shook, but he forced himself to look into Seokjin’s enraged eyes. 

“The satellite that NASA has gone around Mars,” he said, turning to his computer and typing frantically, “they take pictures of the surface every twelve minutes,” he pulled up the pictures he was looking for and pointed to the screen. 

It was a picture of a blurry surface of Mars. The Hab, the Rovers-one totalled and one tucked behind a rock formation, and the empty MDV platform was on screen. He tapped the spacebar, and the picture changed. 

One of the Rovers, the one had been hidden behind the rock formation, was at the Hab. Jungkook shifted from picture to picture until Seokjin’s hand came down, gripping his in an iron grip. 

“You’re telling me,” he whispered, “that my astronauts- _ fuck it _ -my  _ boyfriends _ are trapped on Mars?!” His voice rose to a shrill scream that echoed throughout the room. Jungkook winced at the sound, tears filling in his eyes, and quickly nodded while feeling a little shell-shocked. 

There had been rumours that Seokjin had favoured that particular band of Astronauts, but to be dating them?! In South Korea?! God, Jungkook’s respect for him was a million times bigger. 

Seokjin huffed out a laugh, letting go of Jungkook’s hand. He tilted his head back, cackling in laughter. 

He huffed for breath, looking to Seungcheol with a serious look on his face. “I’m going to faint, get me a chair.”

“What-” Seungcheol started to say, but Seokjin was already collapsing. Jungkook lunged forward, catching the director before his head could hit the floor. Seungcheol, with one hand on a chair, looked down at the director and Jungkook with wide stunned eyes. He was obviously trying to digest the new information, and once he did his face grew pale. 

He groaned, sitting down in the chair he had grabbed and put his head in his hands. 

Jungkook waited for a moment. “S-sir?” He stammered to Seungcheol since Seokjin was obviously still asleep.

Seungcheol shook his head, lifting his head with a tired look in his eyes. 

“We left them behind,” his hands balled into fists, “they don’t even know that we-” he sucked in a sharp breath, “fuck-Namjoon! He thinks they’re dead!”

Jungkook watched Seungcheol as he took out his phone, speaking English to someone on the other side. He glanced over at Jungkook, looking up and down at him and then to Seokjin. 

“He’ll wake up in a bit,” he said, “I’ve contacted Lee Jihoon, he’ll get the information we need from NASA.”

Jungkook nodded, unable to speak. He looked down to Seokjin as the older man began to groan in pain. 

“Seokjin?” He asked quietly, are you okay?”

Seokjin blinked blearily, not quite seeing. “Namjoonie?” He whispered, then his vision cleared. When he saw that it was Jungkook, his eyes filled with tears. 

“It’s true then, isn’t it?” He whispered, “they’re really stuck on Mars?”

Jungkook nodded, “y-yeah, but we’re gonna help them!” He said, helping Seokjin sit up. Seokjin looked at him, sitting in a butterfly position. His lips quirked up into a tired smile. 

“I don’t know,” he whispered, “they’re more than 50 million miles away from us,” he said, “they don’t know that we know that they’re alive, hell, we don’t even know if they’re a-all alive.” He shook his head, biting his lip as tears started to stream out of his eyes. 

Not knowing what to do, Jungkook reached out his arms. 

“What?” Seokjin asked, looking at him with wet eyes. 

“Hug,” Jungkook said, “you look like you need it.”

Seokjin stared at him for a few moments before he nodded. “Yeah,” he whispered, “I do,” he fell forward into Jungkook’s arms. Jungkook wrapped his arms around him tightly and squeezed. 

Seokjin stayed still for a few moments before he hugged Jungkook back. He sniffled, letting out a sob after a few moments. Jungkook rubbed his hands up and down Seokjin’s back, hushing him softly as Seokjin cried loudly. It wasn’t pretty crying, it was gut-wrenching, horrible, and grieving crying. Jungkook could feel his crying in his own chest and found himself about to start crying. 

He pulled himself together, taking a deep breath and gently pushing Seokjin away from him. “What do you want to do, Seokjin-sii?” He asked, “I think that we should tell Commander Namjoon and the others.”

Seokjin shook his head, a bitter look in his eyes, “I don’t want to get their hopes up. It will be hard on its own to get the funds for another mission to Mars, not counting on how hard it will be to make a ship and send it into space-”

“How could you say that?!” Jungkook gasped, “a-aren’t you dating Namjoon-sii?”

Seokjin’s eyes were sharp as a knife as they glared at Jungkook, “and what of it?” He spat, “are you going to tell the news? I can see it now! Head of the failed Ares mission turns out to be a fucking faggot-”

“I didn’t mean it that way!” Jungkook cried, his face burning, “I would never do that to you!”

“Why?” Seokjin seethed, “because you want to keep your job?”

“No,” Jungkook hissed, lowering his voice, “I wouldn’t tell anyone because I admire you, Seokjin-sii,” he said, “you’re my boss, but you’re also someone who’s loved ones are literally on a different planet. Outing you as gay would be shitty of me,” he cracked a hesitant smile, “and don’t we faggots have to stay together?” 

A look of realization dawned on Seokjin’s face, his cheeks went pink and he ducked his head in embarrassment and leant back against one of the desks with a shaky exhale. 

“Yeah,” he said after a few beats of silence, “yeah, we do.”

Jungkook smiled, “I thought so.”

Seokjin raised his head and hesitantly smiled at Jungkook before he tucked his legs closer to his body. 

“I just,” he said, “I don’t know what to do. On one hand, I should tell Namjoon and Hoseok that those three are alive because they’re my husbands, but on the other hand,” he looked down at one of his hands where a band sat around his ring finger. 

Jungkook looked at it a little closer than he had before. There were five small sapphires decorating the ring and it dawned on him. It was one for each of his husbands. How could he not have seen it before?!

Before he could think on it more, Seokjin was speaking again. 

“On the other hand,” he breathed, looking away from his hand, “they are in space. They need to stay sharp and aware and I shouldn’t-” he cleared his throat, his voice sounding tight with emotion, “I shouldn’t give them hope that they’ll be able to see them again.”

Jungkook sat back, looking at Seokjin with wide eyes. His boss, the man he had looked up to for years, he looked so small now. So vulnerable. The entire world was looking at him, and he had to look right back at them and tell them what they wanted to know. 

Jungkook couldn’t even begin to understand what he was feeling. 

“How about,” Jungkook reached up behind him and brought down a pad of paper and a sharpie, “we try to get in contact with them?”

“Contact?” Seokjin repeated, looking at the paper. 

Jungkook nodded, “contact. We can look to see if we’re able to send messages to the Hab, or to the Rover. Wasn’t there an American astronaut who was stuck on Mars for a while?”

“Mark Watney?” Seokjin said, butchering the pronunciation a bit. “Yeah, he was up there for a few years-why?” 

“I have his autobiography,” Jungkook said, “he put down how he survived up there for so long! And how he got home! If we look at that, maybe we can get a sense of where to go?”

Seokjin stared at him with wide eyes and mouth agape. 

“Jeon Jungkook you are a fucking genius.” 

Jungkook flushed, shaking his head, “no, I just have a lot of ideas.”

Seokjin ignored him, grabbing him by his arm and hauling him up, his legs shaking a little. 

“Whatever it is,” he said, “your mind is what we’re gonna go off of to save my idiot husbands.” 

Jungkook smiled and followed him out of the control room, a fluttery sort of feeling in his chest. Huh, that hadn’t been there before. 

Maybe he should get that checked out. 


	2. Chapter 2

God, riding together in the Rover was probably a bad idea. Taehyung looked from where Jimin was driving, the other pressed against his abdomen where he had gotten stabbed earlier. His face was pinched in pain, and he was holding back grunts which Taehyung appreciated. 

He hated it when any of his husbands were in pain. 

Speaking of pain...

He turned to Yoongi who was still fading in and out of consciousness. There had been a freak sandstorm that had picked up, too powerful for the MAV to be able to handle, so Namjoon had made them drop everything and leave. 

Of course, nothing could ever be easy for them. The sandstorm, the combined pressure of the suit, and all of the noise had caused Yoongi to become sensitive to things, and he had frozen when they got outside and could see nothing but darkness and sand that flew past them. It had been a recipe for disaster, and Taehyung couldn’t help but feel responsible. 

Taehyung remembered urging him forward, squeezing his hand to snap him out of it and urge him towards the MAV until it happened. He was the one who panicked, who froze, who didn’t pull Yoongi to the MAV in time. 

A stray piece of shrapnel that had broken off of the Hab flew towards them like a bullet. Taehyung remembered Yoongi screaming and ducking only for the metal to hit his helmet hard enough to knock him back several feet and slam his head into the side of one of the Rovers. 

The same piece of metal, from one of their four satellite dishes, hit Jimin and sent him flying into oblivion. After that, everything was a blur. Taehyung remembered dragging Yoongi into the rover, his hands shaking as he started the engine and turned on the lights, listening to Jimin screaming in pain before the transmitter went dead and Namjoon calling for them to get to the ship-

And then everything went dark. Their transmission cut off, no sound came through even though Taehyung screamed and yelled for Namjoon, or Hoseok or Jimin and Yoongi was out like a light, he couldn’t move and his head was bleeding-they were just in darkness. In the middle of a planet that was covered in dust, dark as night even though it was midday. 

No one could hear him. It had been faulty wiring in his suit, something that they had noticed the day before but brushed it off and said they would fix it later. Now, they were paying the price. Heavily. 

Taehyung had watched as the MAV rose into the air, a bright light in the darkness of the sandstorm. And then they were gone. Their only way home, gone in a burst of flame and nitrogen, rising through the darkness in a beacon of what might have hope, but all it was now was anguish. 

In a rush of adrenaline and terror, Taehyung drove the Rover behind a small rock formation that he had seen the day prior in an attempt to shield them from possible sandstorm damage, and now as they passed the completely totalled Rover, he was happy that he had chosen to do that. 

“We’re here,” Jimin said softly, looking over to Taehyung. His eyes were so tired. He looked like he had aged fifteen years in the past 24 hours. Taehyung wanted to kiss him so bad, but he knew now wasn’t the time. They had a job to do. 

“How are we gonna get Yoongi out of here?” Taehyung asked, glancing over to the elder who was blearily blinking at him. There was a streak of crusted blood on his temple from where he had hit the Rover and a messy streak of duct tape was over the glass. Taehyung could see the sensor on his suit indicating that he was getting low on air, soon all that would come into the suit would be pure oxygen. 

“Carry him?” Jimin suggested, “can we get some sort of stretcher put out?” 

Taehyung made a face, “I dunno,” he looked at the Hab with critical eyes, “is there any way we can park close to the entrance? It’ll be easier to get him inside.”

Jimin hummed, a grimace on his face as he turned back, revving the Rover’s engine and drove a few meters forward, reaching the Hab’s entrance by a few feet. 

“This is as close as I can get,” Jimin said, “make sure his helmet is secure before you get out. Open the Hab door and I’ll get Yoongi ready.”

“Alright,” Taehyung replied, grabbing his helmet and shoving it on his head, sealing it tightly before he climbed out of the Rover. He quickly opened the Hab, waiting for it to stabilize before he quickly went back to the Rover where Jimin was pushing Yoongi’s feet out of the Rover. 

Taehyung grabbed the legs, carefully pulling him out by his legs while Jimin carefully took Yoongi by his shoulders and pushed him out. Yoongi groaned in pain, his hands grabbing the sides of the Rover. 

“‘M gonna barf,” the technician warned, his face green. His arms started to shake and Taehyung could see him start to drool, a sign that he was really about to puke. 

“Don’t you dare,” Jimin hissed, gripping his shoulders and holding him up a little higher, “take deep breaths. You can barf when we’re in the Hab.”

Yoongi groaned again and went quiet. They led him further out until they were carrying him. Carefully, they carried him forward until they reached the Hab’s doors. They got inside, waited until the beeping stopped, and got inside of the Hab. 

“Let’s set him down-” Taehyung froze, unable to speak when he saw the large table that was in the center of the room. His stomach twisted in horror and disgust at what he saw. 

There was blood on the chair. Medical equipment was strewn about. He looked to Jimin and saw a small spot of blood starting to peek through his jacket. 

“J-Jimin,” he stammered, “you said you got stabbed-”

Jimin nodded, “Yeah. I was in here for a bit before I got your distress signal,” he said as they gently put Yoongi down, grimacing when Yoongi gagged into his helmet and spat up a chunk of puke onto his cheek. 

“Can you remove his helmet?” 

“I don’t know,” Taehyung replied, carefully reaching over and unclasping the part of his helmet that kept it attached. “Lift his head.”

Jimin slipped his hand other neat Yoongi’s head, touching his neck and lifting his head only enough for Taehyung to start pulling the helmet up. 

Yoongi’s face was pale, and his eyes were squeezed closed from pain.

“We’re almost done,” Jimin whispered as the helmet got past his chin, buy Yoongi was already starting to gag a bit. Taehyung pulled the helmet all the way up and grabbed a kidney dish. Jimin helped Yoongi sit up as the older gagged, vomiting and coughing, his shoulders shaking. Yoongi had a way of throwing up that sounded so painful, with a gag reflex as strong as his own, he would burst blood vessels in his face, sometimes even in his eyes. 

“Jimin?” 

Jimin looked up at Taehyung. 

“Do you want me to stitch you up again?” He asked, lifting a kidney dish that had a few pieces of medical equipment and a small piece of metal covered in blood. He tried not to gag and wished that Hoseok was here. He knew how to stitch up things the best, and didn’t get squeamish often. 

Jimin grimaced, “sure. Let’s just get Yoongi into a bed before that, alright?” He looked down at Yoongi who was starting to look a little better, although his eyes kept fluttering, “Hoseok-hyung has a medical book in his room somewhere. We can look it over together once we get Yoongi in bed.”

Taehyung hummed, “alright. I’ll take him to his bed. You work on getting that suit off. You’ve lost enough blood as it is and I don’t want you losing more unnecessarily.” 

Jimin looked at him, his lips pursed before he nodded. “Support his head, don’t make him crane.”

Taehyung nodded back, “okay, sweetie,” he said, leaning forward and pressing a small kiss to Jimin’s cheek. He gently grabbed Yoongi by his shoulders and hauled him up so his head was on his shoulder. 

Yoongi groaned loudly, tilting his head to the side and whining loudly. 

“It’s okay, Yoongi-hyung,” he murmured, patting his back gently, “let’s get you into bed.”

Yoongi was silent but rested his forehead on Taehyung’s shoulder with a shaky exhale after a few moments. Taehyung wrapped an arm around him, grounded by the mere fact that he was with his husband. 

“I wanna go home.”

Taehyung paused by the door to the bedrooms. He pursed his lips and opened the door. “I know, I do too.”

* * *

Jungkook looked across the fancy meeting table as Seokjin fidgeted. They were both waiting impatiently for the Americans to arrive because even though both of them had looked at Mark Watney’s autobiography, they wanted a second opinion from the man himself. 

He looked to the door when there was a soft knocking sound, and Seokjin quickly stood up. He opened the door, speaking in quiet English to the man in the doorway. He looked to Jungkook when Seokjin said something and nodded a few times before they walked into the room. 

“He’s agreed to help us,” Seokjin said, his face slack from relief as he sat down, nodding for Mark to sit next to him. Mark said something that made Seokjin crack a hesitant smile, but Jungkook only caught a few words. 

“Should we speak to Namjoon?” Jungkook asked, leaning forward a bit to pick up the iPad that sat in the middle of the table, “we have communications hooked up-”

“I want to stabilize communication between the men on Mars before we talk to Namjoon at all.” Seokjin looked at Mark, translating his words. Mark’s eyebrows raised, and he said something back, his eyebrows then furrowed in thought. 

Seokjin nodded, saying something back. 

He turned back to Jungkook, “he says that he’s surprised that we still have communications with the Hab. But, we don’t have the ability to get into those satellites and communications without NASA’s approval.” 

Jungkook nodded, looking at Mark again. His face went pink and he quickly looked away when the man smiled at him. 

“Does NASA know that they’re alive?” Jungkook asked. Seokjin translated, and Mark nodded, saying something back, but he made a face. He looked angry, and it worried Jungkook. 

Seokjin turned back to him, “he says they’re willing to give us the footage and the satellite.” His lips were pursed. 

“But?” Jungkook prompted, his eyebrows creasing. 

“They want the credit for getting him back,” he spat, “they want to send American astronauts to join Namjoonie and others.”

Jungkook sat back, his eyes wide. “They what?!” He sputtered, “can’t they just give us the fucking footage?!” 

“Quiet down,” Seokjin warned, “we can get angry about the situation later. For now,” he tapped his fingers against the table in an irritating pattern, “Watney has brought the astronauts.”

Jungkook huffed, sitting back and crossing his arms, “fine. What do we do now?”

Seokjin glanced at Mark, saying something. Mark paused before he shrugged and said something back, gesturing with his hand in a vague line. 

“Make them comfortable,” Seokjin translated, “they took a separate plane. Jungkook,” he reached out, taking Jungkook’s hands in his own, “Lee Jihoon is also coming.”

“Who’s he?” Jungkook asked. He’d heard the name before, but never really met the guy. Interns like him didn’t get to do all of the cool stuff people like Seokjin did. 

“A Korean ambassador for our own space programme,” Seokjin said, “he’s stationed mostly in America, but he’s good friends with Seungcheol. He’ll help figure out the legal process of getting that satellite feed.”

Jungkook nodded, sighing and slumping in his seat. “What would you like me to do?” He asked, rubbing his nose. He was so tired. After two days of stress, he was starting to feel it catch up to him. 

“Take them on a tour of the station,” Seokjin said, he spoke to Mark again, the two of them speaking in short rapid bursts as they got up, Jungkook got up too and followed them as they started out of the room. 

“What, am I their assistant now?” Jungkook asked, making Seokjin glare at him sharply, looking at him with sharp eyes through his thick glasses. 

“Tone,” he warned, “we may be in a high-stress situation, but that doesn’t mean that you can speak to your Hyung in that tone.”

“You’re my hyung?” Jungkook whispered, his eyes going wide. No one had let him take that honorific, especially someone of high power as Seokjin. 

Seokjin flushed, “yes! Now...Just go and introduce yourself to them!” He squeaked, turning to Mark and quickly ushering him out of the room, closing the door with a sharp snap. 

Jungkook looked down at the table, willing down the swirling feeling in his gut. He had to ignore his feelings. After all, the man was married and he wasn’t about to go in and be a homewrecker for the sake of his own stupid crush. 

He shook his head and walked out the door of the meeting room, leaving behind any extra feelings he had. Or so he hoped. 

He headed down the hallway of their station towards the meeting room indicated on the walls. He could hear voices inside as he approached the door, and they weren’t what he was expecting. 

The American astronauts were not what Jungkook was expecting. He expected a group of loud people, yelling at each other and just taking up an entire room with their personalities. Like in American movies, action movies with popular actors who were beefy and huge. Jungkook’s type. 

Instead, they were rather quiet. Perhaps it was the fact that they were in an unknown area, not knowing the language of the country they were in. Jungkook looked, seeing a short man with short blonde hair who tersely spoke to the other people in the room. 

Two women and two men. 

“Jihoon-sii?” Jungkook asked, glancing down at the clipboard that he held in his hands. The short man perked up, nodding shortly. 

“Yes, I’m sorry that we’re a bit late, Jeon-sii,” he said, standing up and bowing to Jungkook. Jungkook bowed back, smiling at him. Jihoon only came up to Jungkook’s chest, his light brown hair was a mop of unruly curls 

“It’s no problem,” he said, “thank you for coming. Seokjin-sii was really nervous about this meeting. He’s still talking with Watney-sii.”

Jihoon hummed, sitting back down, “of course. Please, sit,” he said, gesturing to the table. The four astronauts took their seats as well and Jungkook followed. He kept his hands in front of him, his eyes flickering from one astronaut to the other. He couldn’t help but feel a sense of disdain towards them, they were inhibiting the rescue of Seokjin’s husbands! 

He schooled his expression and folded his hands in front of him, straightening his back and listening closely as Jihoon began to speak. 

_ **Three years ago** .  _

Seokjin felt terrible. 

The day after drinking always felt horrible, and this day was no exception. He was  _ heavily _ regretting going on a drinking binge with his friends, the pounding in his head only made itself more prevalent as he stepped into his father’s office. 

The lights were bright and gleaming, fluorescent and buzzing in a nagging sort of way that had him clenching his jaw in pain to hide how uncomfortable he was. His father sat at the desk, a disapproving look on his face. 

“Were you out again, Seokjin?” He asked. 

Seokjin sighed and nodded. There was no use in trying to lie with just how horrible he looked. His father pursed his lips and turned away, picking up a stack of papers and flipping through them. A heavy silence hung above them, and Seokjin picked at his fingernails frowning at how they were chipped. 

“You’re shadowing today,” his father said, putting down two folders in front of him. Seokjin barely reacted, looking back at his father and pulling the folder closer to him. 

“Who?” Seokjin asked, flipping open the first folder and looking at the picture of a handsome man smiling up at him. His father sat back, fiddling with a pen, looking out the window of his office. 

“These are two of the recruits for the Ares mission,” his father said, “you’ll be working as their mission control and monitor them when they launch.”

Seokjin nodded quietly, closing the first folder and opening up the second one, “when am I meeting them?”

“Today,” his father grinned, “both of them have been working tirelessly in their offices for a few days reading over the Watney Protocol and preparing for their launch.”

“So early?” Seokjin asked, standing up and following his father as the older man got up, “but, isn’t the mission leaving in two years? Why on Earth would they be preparing now?” 

His father shrugged, opening the door to his office and walking out. Seokjin followed him. 

“Both of them are,” he trailed off, clicking his tongue, “ _ characters _ . Top of their classes and one hundred percent qualified for this job, maybe a little odd, but I wouldn’t want anyone else as my Captain and Navigator.”

He stepped into the elevator, Seokjin following him. A few interns were shuffled in the back, their eyes wide as they looked upon the head of the company and his son. Seokjin didn’t look back at them, clicking his tongue impatiently. 

“You’re being vague,” he snapped. 

“And you’re being disrespectful,” his father shot back, stabbing the sixth-floor button with his knuckle, “these two men are more than able to do this. I’m your father, so I can take your,” he gestured with his hand, “waspish nature.”

Seokjin scoffed, “don’t use big words like you know what they mean,” he hissed halfheartedly, stepping out of the elevator and following his father down the hall. He could hear the interns hissing to one another, their voices like hot oil on Seokjin’s ears. 

His father came to a stop in front of an office door. The glass windows that flanked the door were covered in dark paper, with only slivers of space between each piece that was meticulously taped to the wall. There was some quiet music being played from inside, and some shuffling around as well as low voices speaking to one another. 

His father knocked on the door and then stepped back. There was a moment of no response, then the music stopped, and the door opened to reveal a tall man in the doorway. He was wearing thick, clunky glasses and his hair was messed up on the top of his hair, coloured dark olive green. He blinked slowly and then smiled. 

“Ah, director,” he said, bowing shallowly, “it’s good to see you! What time is it?”

“Hello, Namjoon,” his father said brightly. Seokjin snapped his head over to look at his father, eyes wide in shock. His father was never on the personal first name level with any of his workers! 

“It’s ten in the morning,” his father continued, tilting to the side to look inside the darkened room, “is Yoongi awake?”

Namjoon nodded, stepping to the side and nodding to a mass of blankets that were huddled in front of a dim computer screen. Seokjin could see a pair of hands frantically typing, with lines of writing appearing on the screen faster than he could read.

“He’s hyper-focusing,” Namjoon said, yawning behind his hand, “I tried to get him to rest but he wouldn’t have it. I think he’s been up since five, but I’m not sure.”

“Wait,” Seokjin interjected, “did you sleep here?” He asked, abashed. 

“We did,” Namjoon replied, blinking slowly a few times, “sorry, who are you?”

Seokjin recoiled, his lip curling. He opened his mouth to hiss at Namjoon, but his father inserted himself in their conversation before anything unpleasant could be said. 

“Seokjin is my youngest,” he said, “he’ll be overseeing your flight path in the coming years,” he pushed Seokjin forward a few steps into the room, “think of him as your manager.”

Namjoon nodded, his face curling into a relaxed smile, “thank you, director,” he said, then nodded to Seokjin, “would you like to come in?” He asked, gesturing inside the room, “Yoongi is working, but I think I can get him to detach from his computer for a few minutes.”

Seokjin nodded, composing himself and walked into the room. He was hit with the smell of sanitizer and wrinkled his nose. Looking around the room, there were no less than at least ten bottles of hand sanitizer placed around the room, most of them full. There were three large monitors that were situated on a large desk, all turned on and showing different star maps through the system. Under the mass of blankets, a man emerged. Or at least the head of one. 

He sat up, grunting and sat back, grabbing the blankets so they draped around his shoulders like a cape. His hair was black and fluffy, long in the front and hanging in his face. He turned his head a little, and the curve of his cheek made Seokjin think of the mochi he had sampled one time on a trip to Japan. 

His cheeks were slightly flushed, and lips curled in a pout as he looked around the room quietly. Namjoon hummed, stepping forward and crouching down in front of him. He lifted his hands so his palms were up, and the blanket-covered man, Yoongi, grabbed his wrists with his own hands and pressed Namjoon’s hands to his face, squishing him. 

Seokjin couldn’t help but feel like he had walked into something intimate and shuffled his feet awkwardly. Namjoon spoke quietly for a moment and the man nodded, rubbing his face in Namjoon’s hands. They both were there for a moment more before Namjoon pulled his hands away from Yoongi’s face and he rose to his feet again. 

“Sorry about that,” Namjoon said, smiling still, “Yoongi’s just a little disoriented. Would you like some tea?” 

“You have a kettle?” Seokjin asked, looking around the room. It was strangely neat, although piles of dark pieces of paper were piled all around and taped to the walls. Looking closer, they made up a string of stars; constellations. 

Yoongi raised his hand and brought it down on the desk, patting the edge of a kettle a few times until he found the switch and turned it on. Seokjin watched him as he crawled around the room, shuffling around the room and gathering blank dark paper in a separate pile arranging them in a large square and taped it together. Namjoon grabbed some dollar store tea bags and set them on the table, and then opened a cabinet and pulled out a coffee cup. 

Seokjin sat down hesitantly on a couch and watched Yoongi as he grabbed a piece of short chalk and began to make small circles in the paper, then sitting back and mumbled as he stared at the wall for a few moments. His hands waved around, tracing the papers with his pointer finger. 

His eyes were trained on the paper, laser-focused in such a way that Seokjin hadn’t seen before in a person who was half asleep. The hazed look on his face that Seokjin had seen earlier was gone. Yoongi was completely focused in such a way that made it seem like if he looked away, Yoongi would continue to work. 

“Seokjin-sii.”

Seokjin looked away from Yoongi to Namjoon who had a cup of steaming tea in his hand, he handed it to Seokjin and he took it with a smile. 

“Thank you,” Seokjin said, blowing on the water and then taking a small sip. He made a face, then smoothed it out. It was sweet, borderline syrupy, but the underline flavour of matcha that balanced out the added sugar. 

Namjoon hummed and took a seat at the desk and folded one leg over the other. “So,” he said after a moment of silence, “I suppose we should get to know each other, Seokjin-sii.”

Seokjin nodded but didn’t speak. 

“You aren’t happy with this position.”

Seokjin scoffed, “why do you say that?”

“You’re hungover,” Namjoon noted, “Yoongi told me he could smell the alcohol on you still.”

“What-I,” he blew breath into his hand and sniffed it and cringed at the smell of booze that was still on his breath, “how the hell did he know?”

“Sensitive nose,” Yoongi, who had a much deeper voice than Seokjin was anticipating, “your dad wears too much cologne. Tell him not to buy anymore from Gucci.”

Namjoon laughed into his tea and sipped his tea a bit more. Seokjin hid a smile behind a drink of his tea, cringing a little at the heat on his tongue. 

“I’m Kim Namjoon,” he said, “I’ll be the Captain of the Ares mission in the years coming, and this is Min Yoongi,” he nodded to Yoongi, “my boyfriend.”


	3. Chapter 3

Jimin kissed Yoongi’s cheek gently as he carried him into his bedroom, hearing Taehyung messing around with the equipment out in the center space but he ignored him and helped his husband to lay down on his bed.

“Jiminie,” Yoongi mumbled, gripping his hand tightly, “the dish,” he breathed, tossing his head from side to side, “it stabbed you?” He reached out, touching the wound on Jimin’s side. 

“Yeah,” Jimin replied, “Taehyung and I are gonna see if we can repair it. I don’t know if we can use the Pathfinder-”

“The one in Watney’s report?” Yoongi whispered, “he explained how to fix it-”

“It’s been out for years,” Jimin murmured, “we have a working Rover, we can try the Pathfinder if you want us to-”

“Do it,” Yoongi replied, “please,” he grabbed Jimin’s hand, squeezing it as hard as he could in a desperate plea, “I need Joon.”

“I know you do,” Jimin replied, squeezing his hand back gently and then letting it go. He tucked Yoongi’s blankets around him and stepped away, “get some rest,” he said, then walked out of the room. 

As he closed the door behind him, the sound of Taehyung moving things around became louder. He limped out into the center room to see Taehyung pulling the bloodstained cot away from the center of the room, hazard gloves on as he cleaned off and put away their medical supplies. He looked up when Jimin entered, his eyes tired. 

“Is he sleeping?” Taehyung asked, setting down a container of gauze. 

“He’s about to,” Jimin replied, “he told us to look for the Pathfinder, I doubt it’s still working, but he was adamant about at least trying.”

Taehyung hummed, crossing his arms, “the solar panels are probably still damaged,” he noted, “Watney said in his report that it was old already and barely worked. It’s probably fried by now!” 

Jimin nodded, glancing back at the door and then grabbing Tasehyung’s arm and tugging him along further away from where Yoongi was trying to rest, “the Rover might work,” he said, “and the solar panels are still fine, they’ll work for another twelve years, at least.”

Taehyung was quiet, his lips pursed, “it all seems like a dream, doesn’t it?” He whispered, “I keep thinking that I’ll turn around and Namjoon’ll be there, or Hoseok will be playing music with Yoongi and Joshua,” he bit his lip, tears filling his eyes, “god, we’re going to die, aren’t we?” 

“Don’t say that!” Jimin hissed, “there’s three of us, three capable astronauts who can and will get out of here!” He turned Taehyung’s face to look at him, his touch gentle, “no one is dying. You both are the most important things to me right now, I’m not letting you die.”

Taehyung sighed and nodded, “sorry,” he breathed, sniffling softly, “I just...I’m scared.”

“I know,” Jimin wrapped his arms around Taehyung, pulling him close and holding him there, “I am too. But we can’t freeze. Now, come on. Let’s suit up,” he pulled away and patted Taehyung’s arm, “let’s see if the Rover can tell us anything.”

Taehyung nodded, wiping his face and following him to where their suits were, pulling on his own and adjusting the helmet. Jimin pulled on his suit and Namjoon’s helmet, inhaling deeply. He could still smell Namjoon’s scent, and it grounded him. No matter how scared he was, he had to press on. 

The pair walked to the front of the HAB, closing the inner door and then waiting as the pressure stabilized before carrying on through and into the Martian area. 

An entire Sol had passed since Jimin had woken up, and although it was freezing cold outside the sun was coming up, breaking over the horizon. Jimin looked down and saw Taehyung holding his hand and smiled. He squeezed gently and then walked with him to the Rover. 

Getting into the Rover, Jimin shivered and breathed out a hiss. When Taehyung closed the door and the pressure stabilized again, Jimin pulled off his helmet and rested it on his knees before turning the Rover’s main power on. 

“Look!” Taehyung gasped, leaning towards the Rover’s main screen, “it’s connecting!” 

And it was. Jimin watched the screen blink, the Korean flag spinning in slow circles for a moment before it flashed again, showing off a text screen. 

"NASA MISSON CONTROL ONLINE."

THIS IS NASA MISSION CONTROL. WHOM ARE WE SPEAKING TO?  
우리를 구해줘  
우리는 살아있다  
THIS IS NASA MISSION CONTROL  
WHERE ARE YOU CONTACTING FROM?  
나사?  
아니, 이것은 화성 임무의 박지민입니다. 우리는 한국 우주 정거장에서 보좌관을 요청하고 있습니다.  
THIS IS NASA MISSION CONTROL. WE CANNOT CONNECT YOU TO THE SHIP TAEYANG. PLEASE WAIT.

  
"NASA SPACE STATION OFFLINE."

“Shit,” Taehyung breathed, sitting back, “NASA? Why aren’t we connected with KARI?”

“I don’t know!” Jimin growled, writing a few more messages into the code bar, “fucking, why didn’t I concentrate in class?” He mumbled to himself, “is it because there’s an American satellite above us?” 

Taehyung breathed out a sigh, his face grim, “I don’t know,” he replied, “but whatever is going on...” He trailed off, his face falling, “we can’t connect to Taeyang  _ or _ KARI.”

* * *

Seokjin paced back and forth through his office, his head spinning. Jihoon sat nearby, a clipboard resting on his thighs as he gripped it with whited-out knuckles. Jungkook sat nearby as well, nervously watching Seokjin as he paced around the short length of his office. 

“NASA?” He said after a moment, “are you  _ sure _ ?” 

“Positive,” Jihoon replied tightly, “I wouldn’t bullshit about this stuff. NASA’s satellite is picking up their Rover’s signals, I think that KARI's wasn’t at the right angle and NASA just...Caught it.”

Seokjin sighed, wiping a hand down his face and pinching his chin in thought. “Fuck,” he whispered after a moment of silence, “what the fuck are we supposed to do, then?” He asked, “we have a deal with them, with their astronauts, but I don’t know if they’ll be very willing to just  _ give  _ us control over one of their Ares satellites.” 

Jihoon nodded quietly, his fingers loosening and then tightening their hold, “we’re stretched thin as it is,” he admitted, “they could try to contact our satellite but,” he made a pinched face like he was eating a lime, “it might just connect back to NASA. There’s no clear way to get out of this mess any more than we’re in it.”

“What about the media?” Seokjin snapped, “They haven’t been notified here or on American soil. What kind of shit show do you think will come our way with this news?!” He threw his hands up, his face screwed up in anger, “two years ago Watney got his ass stuck up there, and now we have three!” He let out a bitter laugh, smacking his forehead loud enough to make Jungkook flinch. 

“Legally,” he spoke up hesitantly, “we have seventy-eight hours to release the news.”

Seokjin turned his gaze on Jungkook, blazing and furious enough to send Jungkook sagging back into his seat, wanting to hide in the tight collar of his button-up shirt. Seokjin’s expression held for a moment before he sighed, rubbing his nose, “fine,” he relented, “get whoever we have on our Media team to make a statement. We’ll give the public awhile to digest the news-”

“We can’t,” Jihoon interrupted, “at least, we can’t be the first to let out that news.”

“WHAT?!” Seokjin’s voice rivalled a lion’s snarl, “what the fuck do you mean?!”

Jihoon, somehow, remained stone-faced against Seokjin’s fury, his lips pursed tightly together, “they have the pictures and gave us Watney’s info and opinion on the situation under the guise that they’ll be the ones to ‘fix’ the mess,” Jihoon said, making air quotes with his fingers, “my hands are tied.”

Seokjin hissed out a breath between his teeth and shook his head, “fucking Americans,” he hissed, “always in other people's business.” He tapped his foot against the floor for a moment, his face red as a tomato by this point, “fuck it. Whatever,” he strode to the door and ripped it open, storming away from his office, “let them release a statement. Don’t interrupt me.”

Jihoon sighed, looking at his clipboard and scribbling something down. Jungkook hesitantly peeked out the door to watch as Seokjin stormed down the hall, snapping at an innocent intern who shied away from in terror from his fury. 

“Should we be letting him get this mad?” Jungkook asked, “like, should I go after him?”

“It’s your funeral,” Jihoon replied as he got up and headed out the door of the office, “you’re an intern, right?”

“Uh, yeah?”

“Then do whatever interns do,” he said sternly, then stepped out of the office and down the hall in a silent swagger. 

Jungkook paused for a moment, hesitant, and then walked down the hall towards where Seokjin had gone. It didn’t take him long to figure out where Seokjin was going, judging by the scared interns and office workers who made a clear path of just where he was going. He followed a ways behind, watching Seokjin as he walked through a few more office spaces and stopped in front of a large office space with a name plaque on the front that read in large font ‘ _ Min-Kim’.  _

Jungkook’s walking slowed to a halt as he stared at the office. Seokjin opened the door and walked inside, closing the door behind him. Jungkook stared at the door, his eyes wandering over the dark papers that covered the windows and blocked all sight from going inside. 

A few interns had made bets about just what was in the office since no one was allowed in and no one could see in. A few of them wagered that it was some sort of communication hub, another thought it was another coffee room for the higher-ups, and some just thought it was a regular meeting room. 

Jungkook approached it slowly, peeking through the crack that Seokjin had left open. Inside with his sliver of sight, he could see Seokjin just standing in the middle of the room. Staring. Hesitantly, he pushed open the door. Seokjin barely reacted, his head tilting a little to face him. 

His cheeks were wet from tears that flowed down his cheeks and splashed onto his collar. Jungkook stepped inside and wordlessly looked around in awe. All of the walls were covered in accurate pictures-no, drawings, of stars. They were plastered over every wall surface, covering it. The planets were drawn as well in the center of the room, with the sun the biggest with the name ‘Jin’ written on it in thick sharpie. 

“I miss them so much, Jungkookie,” Seokjin whispered, breaking the silence, he sniffled wetly and wiped his cheek, smearing snot and tears across his face, “I knew him for eight years, and now he’s 50 million miles away from me-” his voice cracked with agony, but he covered his mouth before he could sob. 

“Hyung,” Jungkook breathed, approaching him slowly, “it’s gonna be okay.”

Seokjin shook his head, his shoulders quivering as he sobbed quietly behind his hand, “he’s my husband,” he gasped, “he-he’s all the way up there, and I’m just here, being useless!”

“You’re doing all you can,” Jungkook said, touching his arm, “he knows that-”

“I couldn’t even tell Namjoon that his husbands are alive,” he hissed, “what kind of man am I if I can’t even do that?”

“Hyung-”

“You know why no one liked him?” Seokjin whispered, “why he was left alone for so long?” He looked up at Jungkook, his eyes leaking, “I’m sure you heard the stories about him and his outbursts.”

Jungkook opened his mouth to protest, but then closed it. He knew of them from the rumours that Seokmin filtered to him. Min Yoongi was weird, he freaked out at certain textures and didn’t talk sometimes and had been seen bashing his head against the wall.

“He’s Autistic,” Seokjin replied, “his brain is just wired differently-” he sniffled again, “he’s so smart-so brilliant. He doesn’t deserve all of the shit he gets.” He rubbed his face and let out a heavy sigh, “these maps,” he nodded to the papers plastered on the walls, “he somehow knew where the stars were down to the exact coordinates. He can tell you what star it is by memory and helped us to figure out the main trajectories during the early Taeyang process. He’s fucking amazing, but people don’t see that. They only see the bad.”

Jungkook quietly approached, wrapping an arm around him, “it’ll be okay, hyung,” he breathed as he pulled Seokjin close, “Yoongi-sii is amazing. I’m gonna help you get him home.”

Seokjin shivered for a second and then collapsed into Jungkook’s arms in a sobbing mess.


End file.
